This growl the fatherland we first stalked,
this scowl the mother lode we first imagined
solid day duties hurried past gene-spotted nights.
We did not invent this theme.
Film on the fives. Ancient mutterings slow to neutralize.
Hearing the herd, my dear, splashing past muddled urges. But death
in sacred surges singing its skilled and perfect pitch
the cold seize of an extinct sturgeon's Adriatic strain
spoiling the forgotten flesh inked in drama,
this drama of Bolington's wet stream.
Spoiled ugly miner's eye growing green, slowly gone...
The poet choked. The painting dried.
Against the gray ash folded hills his Virginia sky grew black,
chasing spit, there was nothing that lived that night that caught
that's it, so much as a breath of slack.
We reconcile the concept of withering time
racing faster in toil than we ever swore it to be,
against the yellow years of a faster tomorrow
no relic found can improve lost liberty.
Wow! Excited after checking in for the first time in five days to see the C's 5 up with magic number of four, eight games left on a zippered 144 day path atop the Cheney Ten! The backyard looks as good or better in my absence. Thanks to all my plant watering pals!
Drove home to a crazy mess. My ISDN provider CoreTel has gone loco. Friends of friends. Oh boy! Bret switched pipe providers himself requiring a re-establishment of OUR linkage with a fresh cadence of IP numbers on our end as well as his. No problems setting ourselves up here. We've bagged all the necessary signs and with the exception of changing our IP addresses with InterNic (very important, absolutely necessary to the smooth operations of the 'XusNET servers, but not until we have line connectivity again), we appear to be waiting for Bret to get his end simpified. He's acknowledged partially that the problem is on his routers' end, but instead of working to fix this problem he got on a jet plane this morning I believe on his way to a previously scheduled two weeks of cruising the boulevard in California, leaving us nearly, and Peter without even a modem, critically offline. There are a few other server folks also zilched by Bret. Fortunately I have this dial-in modem account still active with RadixNET, and can at least check E-mail, surf, and maintain my client's remote sites. But even the Bookskellar is offline now, and unless I swear out another account with SimpleNET, my commercial doors remain closed to the public. This sucks Bret. This really sucks.
Where I'd really like find a niche in the rather near future is to host a reliable fractional T-1 here from the Dollhouse. Under certain slightly different circumstances meant to reduce financial stress and productivity concerns, I'd like to think it's not too awfully unrealistic to comprehend this current pipeline anguish as simply good timing, and worth a solid shot in realizing other options.
The first part of the week on Fripp, Sue & I even boasted connectivity to our Mac network in DC via modem and software with our new laptop, and we used that ample connectivity for several emergency and a few other occasional tasks. But by Thursday morning, all systems were down, zero operations, router poop, another Black Thursday in our midst. The web server, dead. The mail server, vaporized. Absolute deadzone. And now because of these shoddy maneuvers, Bret is losing the confidence of not a few of us in what CoreTel is capable of delivering, and bottomline is more than an issue of money. Problematic is the question of reliability. Leave the dungeon for just a few days, massive outages, team screeches to victory, and you've only heard the half of it. Can you say inevitability? Ihowever am riding this current storm with almost slurfish indifference to what Bret is doing about this, notwithstanding apologies to "Xus visitors, but we're taking the moment to consider aiming higher on the foodchain, and if Bret can't supply our simple demands of dependability, perhaps we need to rethink our position with him. But until we are capable of bringing any preferred changes into existence with the genuine vigor of solid growth, I have little choice but to wait on Bret to make good on his supposedly clever decisionmaking skills. While his present management style suffers the consequences of his failure to establish redundancy before pulling the plug on so many, in context, Bret has been delivering ISDN at a very superfriendly price (30% of market rates), and it behooves us to investigate more deeply before any rash proclamations on abandoning the Mingo enterprise zone in favor of another. This sudden interruption to service is not good business, but right now, it is survivable. Where I'd really like find a niche in the rather near future is to host a reliable fractional T-1 here from the Dollhouse. Under certain slightly different circumstances meant to reduce financial stress and productivity concerns, I'd like to think it's not too awfully unrealistic to comprehend this current pipeline anguish as simply good timing, and worth a solid shot in realizing other options.
Rusty over in Adams-Morgan has been without his 'XUS mail account since Thursday the 17th. But an IM session today showed him in good spirits and without gripe.
The trip along the southern mirage was a welcomed success. Did some scanning in spare moments, but had less energy as a whole than I'd hoped. Once back online, pictures of this scan and a few others will be posted to a working web server near you! We snapped five more rolls of film, witnessing an unbelievably pastoral way of life on Fripp Island. Deer in herds of three, five, nine, twelve graze the island yards without fear of man or machine, except when they spring blindly across the road when locked by headlights. I had to brake quickly to avoid collision on three separate occasions one night trip out, even at 25 MPH and less. Earlier, on the way to Fripp, we indeed saw a car wrecked by a deer then quivering along the side of I-95 just south of Wilson NC. But one can nearly rub elbows with these Fripp deer in evening's light. An unequivocally peaceful experience, but one I am glad is over so that the rest of my life may resume.
Go Chameleons! (90-48)
"Ignorance and virtue suck on the same straw. Souls grow on bones, but die beneath bankers' hours.""